Fragments of Memory
by March
Summary: The war is over and the survivors must learn to live with their new world. I wrote this prior to Book Six. So, while there isn't too much of a canon difference, there are still some things in there that Book 6 contradicts.
1. Fragments of Memory

A/N: This story was originally posted at Checkmated, but do to several unseen issues, it was never fully posted. I worked on this story, tweaking and polishing it, for three years, finally finishing it last spring. The vast majority of this fic has been beta'd by at least two different people, and their work is much appreciated.

However, I wanted to post this epic story because it's sitting on my desktop, unseen by anyone but me. And that seems kind of silly. So here we go.

Hope you enjoy it. (And you probably won't like the first few chapters, but bear with me. At least for awhile.) :)

Chapter One

FRAGMENTS OF MEMORY

"Where is the girl?" came Lucius's slow, drawing, horrifying voice from somewhere around him. It was a cruel game. Ron knew that feigning innocence would be useless... they knew Ron was perfectly aware of where Hermione was.

A woman's voice came next. Ron was in survival mode right now. Everything was black and the Death Eaters had cleverly come up with a spell to keep any curses from being visible. The voices were always asking him questions about people he knew and he never knew when the next painful curse would come, or from where. "And Longbottom, where is he?"

Ron almost laughed, bitterly. He had always wished he was Harry Potter-- maybe Harry didn't have the best life, but everyone loved him and he was the hero. Maybe he'd get to play the hero for awhile, too, if he didn't die first.

He put thoughts of death out of his mind, though, when Lucius continued talking. "You see, Weasley, we have our methods of finding people. And we will find the girl, whether you tell us where she is or not." Ron felt the pain, fought against screaming and promptly lost the battle; and the derisive laughter of the Death Eaters rang in his ears.

He knew he was going to die and this thought, more than anything, jolted him awake.

Ginny's warm brown eyes stared at him, looking worried.

"What are you doing in my room?" Ron muttered, wiping his eyes and slowly sitting up. "And what time is it?"

"Mum heard the scream and sent me up and it's 7 o'clock in the morning. Breakfast time."

He groaned and leaned against his pillow. "I'm not hungry."

"If you don't come down, Mum will force feed you," she said, laughing. And then, quite suddenly, she became serious. "Are you okay? Besides the obvious, I mean."

"I'll survive." He stretched and staggered out of bed. He still felt sore in his back, even after two years.

Ginny nodded, although Ron noticed she wouldn't meet his eyes.

It only took him a few minutes to get ready and then he found eggs, sausage, and bacon at his place at table. The other members of his family, his mother, father, and Ginny, sat there, too. Ron had never gotten used to such a small group.

Percy had estranged himself from the family. Although he had never gotten bad enough that he joined the Death Eaters, he never bothered to make amends with his family. George and Fred were both highly successful: Fred had married Angelina and George was engaged to Alicia Spinnet. Ron knew it was time for him to go out and find a wizarding job, too, but most people had warned him that with his current mental state it probably wasn't a good idea. Ginny was looking for a job, too, but she was staying with her parents until she could find something.

Ron was getting to be more and more frustrated. He had gotten his wish-- he was a hero, but everyone was treating him like he was a small child. He desperately wanted to find a job and make a solid contribution to the wizarding community, but people just would not let him.

"You look like you could use a Pensieve," Mr. Weasley said, looking thoughtful. "A Knut for your thoughts?"

"Nothing," Ron said, knowing his cheeks were turning red and hating it.

"Are you all right, Ronald?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I'm _fine_." What was wrong with him? Hadn't he always been the child who was eager to avoid confrontation at all costs? He could remember some of the bigger rows that had ensued at the dinner table, and, although sometimes he'd disagreed with Percy, he usually tried to stay out of the larger arguments. So why was he so argumentative lately?

"Ron--" said Mr. Weasley, warningly. "Easy."

"I'm not _doing_ anything!"

"Ronald Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley yelled.

The argument had begun.

"Listen," Ron said, knowing he was being unfair and not caring, "my best friend is dead. No one knows where Hermione is, either. I have nightmares every night and I want to get a job. Stop babying me. Maybe if I got a job I'd have something to keep my mind off of what's going on."

Mr. Weasley took a deep breath. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley both stared at him, looking slightly shocked.

"All right," said Mr. Weasley, finally breaking the silence. "If you want a job, find one. I'd love to hire you, but there are nepotism laws. If you can find a job, you may take it. Now, may I please go back to my delicious eggs and sausage in peace?"

The rest of the meal went without incident. After Ron finished picking at his meal, he stormed outside and let the warm air wash over him. It was spring and he loved the sensation of being able to wear a t-shirt with his jeans.

Much to his surprise, Ginny came up from behind him. "I know you're worried about Hermione. Maybe she stopped being a witch and gave up all her powers."

They sat down on the swing in the garden. Their father had become Minister of Magic last year and Mrs. Weasley had used the extra money to add all sorts of beautiful things to her special garden.

"I don't think she did," Ron said quickly. But he knew he was clinging to any sort of hope-- if she had stopped being a witch, it would be harder to find her.

"You want to find her, don't you?"

He paused. He knew it wasn't reasonable, but he did want to. He longed to hold her, tell her she really _was_ the cleverest witch he'd ever known, and promise to never argue with her again.

"You know you can't, right?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't be that stupid."

"Ron, look at me." Ginny knew him well enough to know when he wasn't being honest with her. Damn. He looked at her again and he saw her eyes fill with tears. "Please don't. I already lost Harry. I can't lose you, too. I know it sounds stupid, and it sounds like something you'd hear in a Muggle film, but I'm serious. I'm not strong enough for this."

Watching his wonderful younger sister cry, who had grown into such a strong woman, was too much for Ron. His eyes began to well up, too. "I won't."

She leaned up against him and tried to pretend she hadn't just been crying. Ginny had hold him that she hated it when she cried because her older brothers always used to make fun of her when she did. Even though Ron didn't do it anymore, it was hard to break old habits. "Was it horrible when you left Hogwarts for the mission?"

Ginny had known Ron, Harry, and Hermione had left Hogwarts for awhile to defeat Voldemort, but Ron never talked about what had happened once they got to London. All she knew was that Ron woke up screaming at night.

"Yeah," he said, struggling to find his voice.


	2. Muggles

Chapter Two

MUGGLES

She clutched at her robes, pulling them down over her ankles. All she knew was she was in a cold, dark place underground. Was she still at Malfoy Manor? Hermione didn't even know anymore and she hated the feeling of not knowing.

What she _did_ know was that she no longer had her wand. Completely defenseless, completely alone, and in total darkness. Just fantastic. A few minutes ago, when she had woken up, it hadn't taken long for sheer terror to give away to sort of a dull panic.

She stood up slowly. Hermione was still a little dizzy and nauseous, so she didn't want to stand too fast. She was horrified she'd throw up, and then where would she be?

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," came a familiar drawling voice that was eight hundred times more horrifying than Draco's. A light came on and Hermione felt a sharp pang of fear in her stomach. It was Lucius Malfoy-- potentially the biggest Muggleborn hater in the wizarding world. "Maybe we can have a little chat."

He was sitting in a large, elaborate chair that reminded her of a throne. "Sit down, by all means. You don't need to stand there."

She suddenly saw a chair from behind her and hesitated. It definitely hadn't been there before. What kind of dark magic was this? Or worse, was this even dark magic? Why couldn't she think clearly? Hermione knew exactly what Harry had meant, about not being able to think about anything you've learned at Hogwarts, it's just pure survival.

"Sit, foolish girl, I don't have the time for you to think about it. Rest assured, the games haven't even begun."

Hermione slowly sat up from lying in her warm bubble bath. She carefully dried herself off, got changed, and came downstairs in time for lunch.

She was staying with a Muggle family. Professor McGonagall had made the arrangements. There were a few Death Eaters still lying around and she had known that they would make the connection if she lived by herself. They'd also changed her name to Elizabeth Norman so it would be harder to find her.

The Normans were a kindly couple who reminded Hermione of her parents. As she sat down to eat with them, she remembered with a pang of sadness that she'd never see her real parents again.

This Muggle family had agreed to take her after McGonagall had discussed it with her. She'd said she'd created a deep wizarding spell where Hermione would be safe if she stayed with the Normans, not unlike the spell that had ultimately saved Harry's life many times.

"Hello, Elizabeth," came the cheerful voice of Mrs. Norman. "All packed and ready to go to university?"

Hermione nodded, her mouth full of mashed potatoes. They had discussed the possibility of a job once, but since she wasn't allowed to use magic she'd be doomed to have a boring Muggle job. She had opted to go to Muggle university, get a degree in medicine, and become a doctor. Besides, she loved to learn, and the University of London gave her a great opportunity to use her talents.

She finished her lunch, stood, and said good-bye to her surrogate family. "I'll see you this winter."

"All right, dear. Remember, take the train at King's Cross, and..."

"I _know_," Hermione said quickly. This woman nagged at her a lot, much like her real parents.

And with that, she got up, got her things together, and took the Underground to King's Cross station. After she crossed over the line between the Underground station and the train station, she stood and went over to wait for her train. Platform 11.

She began to make the trek to her platform. Platforms 7, 8, 9. She paused as she approached a familiar looking barrier. Platform 9 3/4. Hermione leaned up against it for awhile and closed her eyes. She found her back relaxing against the cool brick, until--

"What d'you think you're doing? Causing trouble?" a rough looking guard asked her, breaking her out of her reverie.

Never having been accused of causing trouble in her life (unless she was standing next to Ron and Harry) she found herself becoming indignant. "No, I was relaxing before I had to catch my train."

"Well, hurry on, then."

Hermione picked up her luggage and finished the short walk to Platform 11. She found herself grinning. At least this time she didn't have to run through a brick wall in order to take a train.

It wasn't long before her train pulled up and she was able to find a seat. It wasn't like it used to be, where she, Ron, Harry, and whoever else would find an empty compartment and talk about whatever was going on at the time. No one was playing with Fizzing Whizbees, Fred and George weren't causing mayhem, and Malfoy wasn't there to make threats and to bully them. Remus Lupin wasn't in the back of the train, nor was Luna Lovegood.

It was just a normal Muggle train, and Hermione relaxed against her seat, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.


	3. Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes

Chapter Three

WEASLEY'S WIZARDING WHEEZES

"Is force really necessary?" came a cruel voice from over him. "I suppose finding your sister and forcing it out of her won't be very hard."

Ron struggled to remember what Harry had taught them during their D.A. lessons. He fully expected the Imperius Curse, but didn't know when, or if, it would occur. "Don't touch her," he yelled.

"What was that?" came another voice. He thought he had yelled, but apparently it had come out as a hoarse whisper. It was all he had energy for. He didn't say anything, no longer wanting to give them the pleasure of knowing he was already defeated.

Lucius again. "We have just received word that Albus Dumbledore is dead. The Dark Lord himself has finished him off. The stupid man came to protect the boy. He should know better than to meddle around in business that does not pertain to him."

The lights came on, and Ron saw he was sitting on the floor with about fifty Death Eaters surrounding him.

Lucius continued. "No one really knows where the Mudblood is. But, even without this boy's help, we should be able to find her. And the Potter boy as well. I'm sure that wherever we find one, the other should not be far behind."

In the present, Ginny stretched. "You should tell me about what happened sometime. Now, can I accompany you to Diagon Alley? I need to pick up a few things."

"And have my bratty younger sister follow me around?" Ron smiled affectionately. Since Harry's death they had become much closer, almost confidants.

"Yeah, and I can even Apparate now, so don't try any sudden moves. I can follow you quicker now."

"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?" Ron asked. He struggled to pronounce the words while his sister giggled. His damn brothers had, of course, made the name of their joke shop next to impossible to pronounce.

"You're on," said Ginny with a grin.

They Apparated right outside of Fred and George's brand new store. "You know, for such intelligent guys, you'd think they'd be able to come up with an easier name than 'Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes', don't you think?" Ginny said as they stared up at the big sign.

"I think they did it on purpose, really."

"Good point."

As they entered, George turned around from stocking a box with the name, 'Fred And George's Everlasting Quills'. "Look who's here!" he called.

"Hey!" said Fred energetically as he came out of the back room. "If it isn't my dopey little brother and sister."

"Hey, I'm the only little sister you've got. Be nice," said Ginny with a grin. "How's business?"

"Pretty good," said George. "Too bad neither one of you are in school anymore. We just invented these Jumping Quills-- try throwing them at a professor. It'll write on their forehead."

Ron looked at his other brother, amused. Sure enough, Fred had smudgy black marks on his forehead. He had a sneaking suspicion that his brothers had been testing the contraption up until the last minute. "I'd wish those things had been around when we were in school. I wouldn't have minded throwing one of those things at Umbridge."

"Too bad we didn't come up with this sooner," Fred agreed. "But now we'll leave our legacy for any future Hogwarts students. Lucky kids."

"So what are you two doing in Diagon Alley?" asked George.

"Looking for jobs," Ron said quickly. "You don't know of anyone who's hiring, do you? I wanted a job at the Ministry, but Dad said there are nepotism laws."

"Aww, my wittle brother with the big nose and big feet's looking for a job?" Fred looked absolutely delighted. "Well, tell you what. We don't have any nepotism laws of the sort. Or do we?"

George looked back at Fred, eyes sparkling. "I suppose we could make one up."

"We could, but since you're our little siblings, we'll be generous. We could offer you a job here."

"What would we be doing?" Ginny asked, looking cautious.

"Nothing illegal, Ginny. Relax. Selling things to our customers. Or, if you don't like that, you could create promotions for sales and the like."

"How much would you pay us?" Ron asked.

"Oh, enough. One fourth the receipts. We'd each get that much, that way it's equal and we don't have to listen to you complain," Fred said, his eyes rolling.

"Done deal," Ginny said. "What about you, Ron?"

"All right."

This, he decided, was better than nothing.

"Do you want to go to The Three Broomsticks for some drinks?" Ginny asked, already leading the way.

"Sure. A drink would do me good, especially after talking to them."

Ginny giggled as she found a booth and sat down. Much to Ron's surprise, people's heads kept pointing in their direction. The din was quieter than usual and every so often he heard whispers. They seemed to be talking about him.

"I don't have spinach in my teeth, do I? Or a weird scar on my forehead I'm not aware of?" Ron asked, smiling.

"No spinach." Ginny pretended to be searching hard for a scar. "And it looks as if you're scar free, too."

They were silent as a dark haired wizard came over to their booth. "Are you Ron Weasley? The one everyone's been talking about?"

"I'm Ron Weasley. I don't know if everyone's been talking about--"

"I just wanted to let you know you saved my family that day. Thank you. I mean, Harry Potter saved us all, perhaps, but you saved a lot of people, too. You and your friend, Hermione."

Ron found he couldn't catch his breath. Harry had talked about how weird it had been his first day at Diagon Alley, with everyone coming up to him and thanking him for something he didn't even remember. Ron's problem was that he _did_ remember what he'd done. "You're welcome," he breathed. He didn't really know what to do.

"Where _is_ your friend, by the way?"

"I don't know."

"What a shame. Well, if you see her, let her know she saved many peoples' lives, okay?"

"Yeah."

The wizard went back to his table, and Ginny looked at her brother. "Wow. Are you going to tell me what you _did_?"

"Ginny, I don't want to talk about it. Not today."

She looked slightly hurt. "Okay."

Just then, a group of people walked by. One of them stopped. "Weasley, what are you doing here?" It was Professor McGonagall, wearing something that could almost pass as a smile. "May I join you?"

Not wanting to argue with a previous professor of his, he nodded as she slid into the booth.

"Good day, Ms. Weasley."

"Good day, Professor."

She nodded and took a sip of her drink. "I trust you are all doing well."

Ron blinked. "We're fine. What are you doing down here in London?"

"Visiting some relatives," she said. She lowered her voice. "So, how _are_ you two doing?"

"All right," Ron said.

"Truthfully?"

"Yes."

"No, he's not," Ginny said, quickly.

Ron kicked her from under the table, and McGonagall raised her eyebrows as Ginny squealed.

"I know. But you will be. That's what Albus and I told Harry." She held her hand up as Ron tried to protest, and Ron was briefly struck by how much she reminded him of Dumbledore. "I know you don't believe me now, but you will. And..."--she leaned over the table and began to whisper-- "I know you want to look for a certain friend of yours. Don't do it, Ron. I'm sorry, but for awhile, it's as if she never existed, okay?"

Ron nodded. Maybe it was just his imagination, but it looked as if McGonagall looked on the verge of tears. Neither he nor Harry had ever been able to tell what she was really thinking. She patted his hand sympathetically, but then looked especially interested in the design of the wood on the table.

"So, how are you, Professor?"

"Busy making arrangements for next year. At the beginning of every year, we always have a discussion as to whether or not we should go back to making Slytherin a house. The Ministry always shoots down that idea. And if it's not the Ministry, it's an angry parent who sends me a Howler, telling me that their son or daughter was killed by someone from Slytherin."

"So there are just three houses now?" Ron asked.

"I _told_ you that, Ron," Ginny said.

Now that they'd mentioned it, it sounded familiar, but he'd been a million miles away mentally during Ginny's last year at Hogwarts.

"Yes, it's a touchy issue right now," said McGonagall with a sigh. "I keep telling them that it's not the _house_ that's evil; it's the choices these students have made. I'm turning the Slytherin common room into a memorial for all of the students who have died on our side. Even _that's_ causing complaints."

Ron nodded and began to blink, very fast. He didn't want to let on that he was about to cry. Three times in one day. That had to be an all time low.

"You may want to, er, visit sometime. You'd be more than welcome and it's surprisingly very freeing. I'm letting every former Hogwarts student come back and visit anytime they'd like."

She stood and rubbed Ron's shoulder. "It _does _get better, I promise."

And with that, she turned and walked out of the pub.


	4. Muggle Psychology

CHAPTER FOUR

MUGGLE PSYCHOLOGY

"What was McGonagall going on about-- 'it only gets better'?" Ron complained as they walked out of the pub. "How would she know? Where was she when--"

Ginny put her arm around Ron and said in a soothing voice, "It's okay, Ron. Breathe."

He found himself smiling. "Breathe, huh? What are you, my brain prober?"

"Yeah, probably. Seeing as you won't go to St. Mungo's."

"Where's your brain probing certification, young lady?"

"Don't have one. But it's a good idea. I could go to medical school and become your brain prober. Did you know the Muggles call it psychology? I've been reading all about it."

"By the time you learn all that stuff I'll be fine."

"I'll learn it quickly, then."

"You're scary, Ginny. Are you really that eager to practice medicine on me?"

"In all seriousness, though, you should see one. You've been so off. Mum and Dad are worried about you. They talk about it all the time."

"They talk about me behind my back?" Ron felt himself become angry. "Why?"

"Because you explode for no particular reason. You're constantly angry, like, well, like you are now." Ginny smiled wryly.

"I am _not_ angry," he snapped as a brunette came up and stood in front of them.

"Are you Ron Weasley?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, glaring at his younger sister.

"Will you sign your autograph for me?"

He took out his quill and hastily scribbled his name down on her spare parchment. His eyes followed her until she ran into a Quidditch shop. Ron looked at the window for a minute where a plastic mannequin was displaying the newest Quidditch robes and the newest brand of broomstick. It had been such a long time ago since he'd envied Harry and all of his new models. And it seemed like a different world-- the world in which Harry had given Ron the position of Quidditch captain their seventh year. They'd won the Cup that year, and Mrs. Weasley had framed the picture of Ron holding the trophy over his head, triumphant.

"I miss Quidditch," Ginny said, as if reading Ron's thoughts.

"Me, too. God, we were so carefree in those days."

"Ron, what can I do to get your mind _off_ of your troubles for a day or so? You're going to explode if you keep brooding on the past."

This almost made him smile.

"_God, if anyone thought all those things they'd explode." _

"_Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have." _

It was weird, what made him smile these days.

"Well, there's one thing I'm sure of." This time, a smile really _did_ spread across his lips. "Hermione's still alive. McGonagall said."

"Ron--" Ginny began with a sigh.

"I know, I won't go looking for her."

But when they Apparated back to the Burrow, Ron felt a hundred pounds lighter.


	5. Homesick

CHAPTER FIVE

HOMESICK

It was strange to Hermione how fast the days went by. September turned to October, which quickly turned into November. She fell into the routine quickly, and emerged as the cleverest student in her first year class.

She and Michelle were becoming the best of friends. It was strange, having a female friend. She'd had male friends her whole life, and learning about boys, famous celebrities, and her most flattering shade of nail polish was bizarre. Hermione had learned that men were scum who were only there to break a woman's heart from Parvati, but this brought new meaning.

She did enjoy the pity parties that the girls put together when a guy broke a woman's heart.

It was after a particularly nasty break-up between a friend named Katie and her boyfriend, that the topic turned to past relationships that Hermione had had.

"So, Elizabeth. Have you ever had a boyfriend?" Katie asked. Her eyeliner was running.

"Well, sort of," Hermione said, feigning interest in her books on the bookshelf.

"What happened?"

"_My boyfriend was tortured by evil wizards and then sold me and our best friend out and then didn't come back to help. Then the headmistress of our old school decided I could never see any of my wizarding friends again, which means I can't go back and talk to Ron," _didn't seem like a very smart thing to say. "Erm, it just didn't work out."

"Well, that's obvious," said Michelle. Hermione thought that her friend had had too much to drink. "I mean, why'd you break up?"

"Er, differences... in... stuff," Hermione said, standing up for a moment to grab a book called _Comparative Medicines_ off the shelf. She knew she was blushing but there wasn't much she could do about it. As Ron would say, "When it doubt, you always consult a book."

"Studying again? It's Friday night," said another girl who Hermione didn't know very well. "I always see you at the library. All you do is study."

"Yes, well, I have exams."

Michelle nodded knowingly. "No one studies like she does. Perfect marks in all your classes, eh?"

Hermione shrugged. "Well, almost."

"She's being modest," Hermione's roommate, Rebecca, chimed in. "She's the best student in all four years."

"Maybe you can help me with math sometime," Katie said with a grin.

"Sure," Hermione said brightly.

"Men stink," Michelle added helpfully.

"They sure do," Hermione agreed softly.

"Where are you going?" Rebecca asked, sleepily rolling over. It was the first Saturday in November, and most of the students were enjoying being able to sleep in after an especially stressful week. Hermione, on the other hand, had woken up early.

"Taking a walk," she responded, flattening her hair with her hand and sighing at her appearance reflected in the mirror. This mirror didn't talk to her, but, judging from the way she currently looked, the talking mirrors of the wizarding world weren't missed.

"Okay." Within a few minutes, her roommate was fast asleep.

Hermione walked outside and enjoyed the cool, crisp air. These few minutes were hers alone, and she didn't have to deal with people asking her why she spent _all_ her energies on studying, or why she didn't laugh very much.

It had been a three years to the day, when she'd discovered that Harry had been killed in battle. In order for Voldemort to die, Harry apparently had to die, as well. No one had expected that. What had the prophecy said? _In order for one to live, the other must die..._ Why had it been flawed? They had all figured that once Voldemort died, Harry would live. Even real prophecies were flawed.

Lucius had shown her exactly how it had happened through some sort of dark magic. "Now there's no need to keep you alive, really. My Lord has been defeated, but so has your friend..."

She walked over to a run down store. Inside, there was a display of flowers, and she grabbed a bouquet. "Here's to you, Harry," she thought.

After she'd bought them, she glanced across the street. Was that a man in a cloak? A wizard? And did he have red hair? She gasped. How had he found her? Hermione stared at the man until he turned around. He bore no resemblance to Ron, and was giving her a dirty look for staring at him for so long. "Just a weird guy in a cloak," she thought sadly.

She had no idea where she was going to place the flowers, so she continued her walk. Later, she found an empty spot against a building. Not very elegant, perhaps, but where else was she going to put it, stuck in the city?

"_Take care of Ron for me, will you?" Harry asked, kissing her on the cheek. "I'll be back. And don't forget what Lupin said. You need to find the Death Eaters' hideout. Don't try anything until I come back." _

_Harry had aged about a hundred years. He was only seventeen, but he knew what he had to do. _

"_Promise you'll be back?" Hermione asked, holding on to his shoulder. _

"_Yeah. Where _is _Ron, anyway? I haven't seen him all day." _

"_You don't need to worry about that," came a high, cruel voice. For the first time ever, Hermione saw Harry panic. Seeing brave, heroic Harry panic made her shake all over. "I just had a discussion with your little friend. Rest assured, he let us know of your whereabouts. Crabbe, Goyle-- search the premises. If anyone is here, kill them. Lucius, Bellatrix, take the girl. The boy is mine." _

She sighed, letting saliva soothe her dry mouth. _Thanks, Harry_, she thought. "Without you, it would have been much worse for me."

With that, she turned around and began the walk home.


	6. Ginny's Tale

CHAPTER SEVEN

GINNY'S TALE

Ron and Ginny found that working for their brothers wasn't bad at all. Business was good and they were paid quite a bit of money. Fred and George kept them laughing with their antics, but the only downside was that they were often used as test subjects. When they did put their foot down, Fred cheerfully offered his services.

The months flew by quickly and before they knew it, it was November. The weather became crisp and cold. It was beginning to show signs of the upcoming holiday season and business became hectic.

One day, in the middle of the month, Ron was counting money when someone very unexpected appeared.

"Professor?" Ron gasped.

The man flicked the hood of his cloak off his head and waved at him dismissively. His hair had grayed considerably, but otherwise he was exactly as Ron had seen him last."Call me Remus. I don't know how long it's going to take to get you kids to-- what on earth are these?" He was holding a box of Exploding Parchment in his hand.

"When you write on them they explode," Ron informed Lupin with a grin. "Fred and George recommend that you try to get your friends to use them. Not a good idea to use them yourself."

"Right."

"How on earth have you been?"

"Busy with some extra paperwork. I've been working at the Ministry for the Magical Creature Liason Office. As you probably know, they renamed all the offices after the war. Big waste of time and money, if you ask me, but there you go. Even your father thinks so. But the After War department decided people shouldn't be reminded of it. And I'm applying for the Care of Magical Creatures job at Hogwarts."

"That's great," Ron said as his brothers and sister emerged from the back room. They all had black smudges all over their faces; apparently Lupin had found it better not to ask. The three test subjects looked positively thrilled to see their old friend.

"Are you doing anything tonight?" George asked excitedly after Ginny hugged Lupin.

"No, not really. I suppose I have some work to get done, but--"

"You should come to eat dinner with us. Mum's invited all of us over to the Burrow."

"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to trouble her. And I'm sure she hasn't made enough food--"

"Are you joking?" Ginny laughed. "Mum would completely be in her element. She always overcooks anyway. She was so used to feeding eight of us that now she cooks twice as much food as we need. Please? I'm sure she'd love to have you."

"If you're sure," Lupin said, trying to look nonchalant, but looking eager all the same.

"Well, you need to hurry up," said Fred, using his wand to shut everything down. Contraptions stopped whizzing, noises stopped coming from the Every-Animal-Candies display, and the lights turned off. The clicking noise from the door indicated that the door was locked. "I'm sure Angelina and Alicia Apparated about a century ago and are furious that we're not there yet."

They Apparated separately, deciding it would be best if Lupin came a second after everyone else did.

"Guess who's coming to dinner?" George said as Lupin Apparated on the carpet.

"Well, that sort of ruined the surprise," Angelina laughed as she emerged from the kitchen and wiped her hands on her apron. "What took you so long?"

"Your husband is a slave driver," Ron noted as he hugged his sister-in-law.

"Well, you don't want to get on his bad side. Remember, he was a Beater."

"What about me?" George said, looking put out.

On cue, Alicia emerged from the kitchen, too. "You're just cute."

"Hey!" George protested, but Ron didn't think he looked too upset. He enveloped Alicia in a giant hug and kissed her again and again.

"Ew," Ginny joked.

Mrs. Weasley came out as well and ran over to Lupin. "It's been such a long time! Are you staying for dinner?"

"If you'll have me," Lupin said, looking shy and slightly out of place.

"Absolutely. I cooked more than enough food--" Ginny shot Lupin an I-told-you-so look "--and a member of the Order is always welcome in our home."

Ginny, Lupin, Ron, Fred, and George retreated to the living room as Angelina, Alicia, and Mrs. Weasley went back into the kitchen to finish making dinner.

Ron walked past the Weasley family clock. Although Percy had not spoken to them in years, Percy's hand of the clock had not been removed. It pointed to 'Home,' wherever that might be. Bill's pointed to 'Work' and so did Charlie's. Everyone else's pointed to 'Home' except for his father's. A few seconds later, his hand of the clock moved from 'Work' to 'Home.' Mr. Weasley Apparated into the living room and sank into an empty spot of the couch.

"Long day," he sighed as Ginny came over to hug him. She sat down next to him and sighed sympathetically.

"Me, too," she said. "If Fred and George stopped asking me to be a test--"

"Hey!" Fred protested. "We do it, too."

Mr. Weasley smiled weakly. Apparently Mr. Weasley suspected something was up unless there was an argument going on somewhere. His father ignored the scuffle. "Well, it looks as if some of the remaining Death Eaters are mobilizing themselves."

Lupin nodded and was about to speak up when Mr. Weasley finally noticed him. "In the name of Merlin! I haven't seen you in forever! Er-- sorry, go on."

"Yes. Everyone's in an uproar," agreed Lupin. "The Death Eaters _are_ mobilizing themselves and it looks as if they're ready for an attack any day now."

Ron felt his heart skip a beat. "What does that mean?"

Lupin looked right at him. "I'm going to have to be honest with you, Ron. It means that they're looking for remaining Muggleborns. Many of them, like Hermione, have disguised themselves as Muggles for their own protection."

"Why does it matter if they find them or not?" Ginny interjected. "I mean, they got what they wanted, right? There are no Muggleborns to muck up the wizarding world." Ron was surprised at how angry and bitter his sister sounded. From looking around, everyone else was slightly surprised at Ginny's outburst, too.

"Well, Ginny," said Lupin in as an even tone as if he'd been discussing the merits of using the _Ridikkulus_ charm versus the _Indelvo_ charm when chasing out Boggarts, "it's not enough to these people that they're gone. They're so angry from the war that they want them dead."

An involuntary noise rose in Ron's throat. Suddenly his stomach had dropped down to the level of his knees. It meant they were looking for Hermione. And he was totally powerless to stop it. "We've got to do something," Ron said as Mrs. Weasley emerged from the kitchen and announced dinner was on the table.

Everyone moved in the direction of the table and sat down.

"But we can't," his father said, looking tired. In the last three years of being Minister, he'd aged considerably. It was hard rebuilding a world that had been torn apart by war and the bags under his eyes reflected that. "How many times have I told you? The Ministry will keep an eye on the Muggleborns who are in hiding. It's the best we can do."

"But Hermione--"

There was a collective intake of breath from the table. The Weasleys knew an explosion was about to occur.

"Some chicken?" Angelina asked helpfully. She was absently dumping more chicken on Fred's plate than was really needed. Fred, however, was accepting each piece enthusiastically.

"Save some for us, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, looking caught between worrying about Ron and amusement at her children's antics.

Ron found that once he started, it was much easier to plow ahead. "I can't believe you all are just sitting there, _waiting _for something to go wrong. What if someone dies? Hermione is in _danger_, do you get it? Some of the most extreme Muggleborn haters in the world are still out there, waiting. Lucius Malfoy isn't _dead_, he's just waiting to find out where everyone is so he can attack. If we--"

"Ron, it would be more than foolish to go looking for these people. The Ministry is working hard to find out where these Death Eaters are meeting. Trust me-- we're not letting this go unchecked." Mr. Weasley helped himself to a plate of chicken. The plate had finally gone around and Fred had reluctantly given up some of his extras. "It's really all for the best."

Ron slammed his fist on the table. An almost uncontrollable wave of anger passed through his chest and made his cheeks hot. "She doesn't even have a wand!" he snapped, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork.

The table went deadly silent. Ron began to cut his meat, making as much noise as possible in the process. The ghoul from upstairs, however, apparently decided they weren't making enough noise; he began to clatter and throw antique rocking chairs as loudly as he possibly could.

"I'm going upstairs," Ron muttered, pushing his chair back. Suddenly, he had lost his appetite. "I'll see you guys later."

As he stormed up the stairs, the mirror exclaimed, "You really shouldn't get so flustered, dear. It does nasty things to your complexion."

"Yeah, well, stuff it," Ron snapped, glaring at it.

Thirty minutes later, there was a soft knocking at his door.

"Come in," he muttered.

Not surprisingly, it was Ginny. "You've really got to get rid of all your Chudley Cannons stuff. They're never going to win."

"They still will. They just need the right team." He was mostly speaking to his pillow.

"I brought you some apple pie. Angelina is a wonderful baker. I have no idea how Fred ended up with such a good cook."

Ron sat up, feeling guilty about his latest explosion. "I'm really sorry I was angry."

"Don't worry," Ginny said, placing a plate of pie next to him on the bed. "It was warranted. I know you're really frustrated and worried-- I am, too. And with any luck the Ministry will take care of it and Hermione will be able to come back into the wizarding world before you know it." A Bludger from a poster on the wall flew past them and Ron felt the hair on the back of his neck lift gently.

A minor explosion from next door caused the ghoul to stop rattling the door of the attic. Although the twins no longer lived with them, they often came back and used their old room as a laboratory. Apparently Fred and George were showing off their newest inventions to Angelina, Alicia, and Lupin. Sure enough, a few seconds later, there was a fit of coughing in the hallway, and Ron smelled smoke. A voice muttered an incantation to get rid of the smoke and all was back to normal again.

Well, as normal as it ever was in the Weasley household, he thought.

Ron took a bite of his apple pie and forced it down. Ginny sat down next to him and watched him eat for a minute. "What happened the last day-- when Harry left you guys?"

Now he definitely couldn't finish his dessert. "Ginny, I can't tell you that."

"Please." She looked sad and more than a little frightened. "I can tell it's wearing on you. I want you to let me know."

Ron put his plate on his bedside table and held Ginny's hand. A Snitch from his wallpaper floated as if it didn't have a care in the world, until a Bludger came by and it disappeared once again, probably to hide behind his dresser. "What can I say? Lucius Malfoy used me for bait. Pure and simple."

She squeezed his hand and he listened to the voices rising from downstairs. They were laughing and joking, and he heard George say, "So one of our customers..."

Ron opened his mouth and found he couldn't continue. "I'm not ready. I can't do this."

Ginny nodded. "I felt that way for the longest time, too."

He looked at her in surprise. She had her own story as well?

She stared at the wallpaper and said, "It was horrible when you three left. It was just us, the members of the D.A., without Harry, you, or Hermione. A man by the name of Daniel Jenkins took over the school. Everyone knew something was wrong. Dumbledore had always been polite about stepping down when members of the Ministry questioned his ability to lead, you remember?"

Ron nodded and swallowed. "Yes."

"We didn't know too much about him, just that Dumbledore really didn't want to give over the position of Headmaster to this man. He'd announced to us with the dullest expression that Daniel was taking over and that Dumbledore'd be gone in the morning. I'd never seen the twinkle in his eyes go out like that... well, maybe once or twice."

"I saw it after Harry and I ended up in the hospital at the end of our sixth year. And after our fourth year. Go on." He could see his sister's eyes fill with tears, but none fell.

She nodded. "So then a couple of members of the D.A. snuck out of our beds late that night. We knew we weren't supposed to, but we were using you three as role models, right?" She forced a grin. "Well, anyway, there was me, Michael Corner, Zacharias Smith, Neville Longbottom, and Luna Lovegood."

His stomach tightened. Besides his sister and Luna, all of those people had died.

"Luna and I had eavesdropped on McGonagall earlier that day when she'd gone up into the headmaster's office, so we knew the password. We snuck up the winding staircase and listened. There was a huge row ensuing from upstairs. And then we heard Dumbledore's voice." She shuddered. "It sounded eerily calm but guarded. 'I do not want you to take over, but if I must step down, I must. I do not want to duel with you.' Jenkins's voice had changed drastically. He sounded horrible and evil, and that's when we knew he was a Death Eater."

Ron involuntarily sucked in his breath. He'd had no idea his sister had been through all this.

"We used magic to force the door open and Dumbledore looked surprised, but slightly angry and worried, all at the same time. He held up his hand and told us to leave. I saw his eyes shimmer again, and I think he might have been crying a little. Well, Voldemort came through the fire and held his wand up to Dumbledore."

"You watched..." Ron faltered.

"Yes. Several more Death Eaters came through as well, and we tried to keep them away from Dumbledore, using every spell, curse, and hex we knew. But they blocked the door and every single one of them forced us, somehow, to watch the battle. Dumbledore told them that Voldemort would not touch Harry and he muttered some sort of charm under his breath. He told every member of the D.A. to take his hand, but the Death Eaters would not let us. Before we had a chance to run to him, he was dead.

"Voldemort was victorious. He said that after everything that had been done to protect Harry, none of it would work, and that he was as good as dead. At that moment, several of the Death Eaters killed Michael, Zacharias, and Neville, although I have to say Neville almost survived the battle until the last minute. Voldemort vanished-- I suppose to find Harry-- and Luna and I defeated the rest."

There was silence again and the ghoul began using what sounded like a heavy wooden block to make as much noise as humanly possible. Ginny looked spent and Ron allowed his sister to sit and cry for as long as she needed, which turned out to be quite some time.

How had he been so insensitive? Three years ago was when his sister had needed him most, and he hadn't been there for her. He'd been so wrapped up in his own problems he hadn't even thought he sister _might_ be going through some of the same thing. He resolved to take care of Ginny as much as his sister had been taking care of him. And someday, maybe, he'd be ready to tell his own story.


	7. Escape

CHAPTER EIGHT

ESCAPE

It was the last day before the students were supposed to leave for the holidays when it happened. Hermione had packed her bags, selected any books she needed for over the break, and was sleeping in the comfort of her own bed when she heard voices. Very familiar voices.

She shot straight up in bed and blinked a few times. Sleepily, she listened for these voices to continue.

Silence.

Hermione fell back into bed and began to doze off when she heard them again. She couldn't place the voices, but they still sounded awfully familiar. Then she heard another chilling voice. "The Mudblood is around here somewhere."

She threw her robe on, heart pounding frantically. How had they gotten here? There was no mistaking it-- they were definitely wizard voices. Death Eaters' voices.

" 'Lizabeth, go back to bed," her roommate said sleepily.

She held her breath while her roommate fell back asleep. Hermione heard pounding on doors all the way down the hall and she knew it was only a matter of time before they got to her door. At first, she thought it would be simple to just not answer the door, but that might be suspicious, and with some magic, they could certainly break down the door. The only thing to do was to create a diversion.

"Where's my wand?" she said out loud. She hadn't meant to, and she winced when she heard--

"What?" her roommate shot straight up in bed. "What wand?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. _You'll thank me later. _Where _was_ it? She had definitely taken her wand with her to school, but she had hidden it. Fantastic. The footsteps were coming closer and closer and the knocking now drowned out the sound of her heart beating in her chest. Desperately, she reached into a bag at the bottom of her suitcase and pulled out her old friend.

"That's... a real wand, then?" Rebecca asked, looking amazed.

"No, I got it for my little sister in the toy store yesterday. For Christmas," she lied. "You should go back to bed." _You'll be awake soon enough. _

Her roommate fell back against her pillow and Hermione stuck her head out the door The men were down the hall, asking a fellow student if they knew where a young woman by the name of Hermione was. Since she had told everyone her name was Elizabeth, everyone seemed to be telling them they had no idea who they were talking about.

And then... they saw her.

"_Lacarnum Inflamarae_," she whispered as a small spark came out of her wand. "Come on."

Hermione's heart felt like it was coming out of her chest. She repeated it, this time speaking a little bit louder. Nothing was happening. "Please."

Her wand gave a feeble spark and died out. Pleading _had_ never worked in the wizarding world.

They were running towards her, wands raised, when she yelled, "_Lacarnum Inflamarae!" _at the top of her lungs. Several things happened at that very minute. Many of the Death Eaters jumped back in surprise-- their robes had caught on fire-- and the sprinkler system detected smoke. The sprinklers and the alarm went off. Hermione managed to vanish into the confused crowd as ten angry Death Eaters tried to figure out how to stop the waterproof fire.

Hermione had no idea where to go. Now that they knew where she lived, couldn't they come and attack her at any moment? Would she be safer with the Normans or back in the wizarding world?

It only took her a few moments to make her decision and she Apparated, finally landing at the Burrow. She wasn't sure why that was her first instinct, but she knew she was in trouble and Mr. Weasley _was_, after all, the Minister of Magic.

Much to her surprise, the Weasleys were already up. She heard pounding of feet from upstairs, lots of confusion, and Pig, Ron's owl, was flying around the living room in a panic. Apparently he had just finished delivering a letter. The news seemed to be traveling fast around the wizarding world.

A few seconds later, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were downstairs.

"Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "You gave us quite a fright. We just got the letter, of course, and the whole wizarding world is in a panic. You must be exhausted, dear. We can make up an extra bed for you until we figure out what we're going to--"

Mr. Weasley cut her off. "We need to figure this out now." And with more authority than Hermione had ever seen him have, he told her to sit down and to tell him what had just happened. She explained everything to him, and he took off his glasses a few times to rub his eyes.

"What you did was irresponsible and very dangerous. The amount of memory charms we're going to have to perform is, quite frankly, a bit overwhelming at this point."

"But, Mr. Weasley, I--"

He held up his hand and closed his eyes. "I know. It's not that I don't understand. We'll have the entire wizarding world on a high state of alert now, and I'm sure there were plenty of Muggles who saw you. However, it was self defense, so I'm not going to press charges for violating that law."

Hermione felt relieved but a little bit guilty at the same time. Running away seemed like the most logical thing to do now that she looked back on it. She just hoped no one in the crowd saw her disappearing so suddenly.

"I'll go over it with other committee members in the morning, but right now the only thing I can think of to do is have you stay with us. The Normans are protected with a certain kind of charm that will keep them out of danger, but there's no need to keep you in the Muggle world with no method of defense. Clearly we were foolish and I must ask you to accept my apologies."

Hermione felt a rush of gratitude and hope rise in her chest. The Weasleys had always been more than kind to her and she loved them with all her heart. She nodded, trying very hard not to grin like an idiot. "Yes."

Mr. Weasley looked slightly relieved and then leaned forward. "Now, you must tell me... what exactly does the sprinkie system do? How does it work?"

"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. "The poor dear must be exhausted."

"Maybe you can tell me tomorrow," he said, looking hopeful.

"Absolutely," Hermione agreed.

"Er, Ginny dear, will you show her Fred and George's old room? She can sleep there tonight."

Ginny nodded and grinned when they were both out of earshot. "Wow, Hermione, I forgot you could do that."

"I had forgotten _how_ at first," she admitted. "I had to go way back into my memory, of course, and then I had to remember how difficult it actually is to execute the charm."

"Hey, if you want me to, I can sleep in the other bed tonight. We have to catch up. But I understand if you don't want to. You must be exhausted."

But Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yeah, we can talk for a few minutes."

The few minutes had turned into an hour or so, and when Hermione finally drifted off to sleep, she slept soundly. She woke up at 11:00 in the morning to the sound of booms, giggles, and loud voices.

When she got downstairs, she discovered Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny trying to put up a Christmas tree in the living room. Angelina and Alicia looked as if they were giving instructions, laughing and joking the whole time. "No, to your left. Way to your left," Alicia called.

"No, just a smidge to the left," Hermione disagreed.

At her voice, several things happened. Fred, George, Alicia, and Angelina, who hadn't seen her the night before, ran over to hug her. The women squealed and began to ask her a hundred questions, which she answered without hesitation. Ron, on the other hand, stood by the tree with his mouth open. The top of the tree drooped unsupportively from behind him.

He came over to her and she found her heart was hammering much as it had done the night before. But this time, it wasn't entirely unwelcome. Her stomach dropped when it looked as if Ron was going to hug her, but at the last minute, he reached out his hand and shook hers.

"For heaven's sake, Ron," Ginny grinned. "You can hug her, you know."

Ron's ears turned red, but he hugged her, patting her on the back slightly. Hermione almost laughed, but she knew it would just make him even more embarrassed.

"Hermione's here," Ginny said. "Or did we forget to mention?"

"Yeah, you may have forgotten that slight detail," he muttered as he pulled away.

Angelina and Alicia pulled her over to the tree, which made Hermione laugh despite herself. What had gotten into Ron, anyway? During their last few years at Hogwarts, whenever Harry had been acting strange, they'd talked. They'd even dated for a few months back before the war. She was confused. Even though she was still angry at Ron for selling them out, she _did_ want to talk to him. _Fine_, she thought. _It's back to third year then._

They finally managed to magick the tree into a normal spot, although the top was slightly bent over. Then everyone proceeded to "swish and flick" the ornaments on the tree.

Ron wouldn't make eye contact with her. Her stomach kept flipping over as she helped to decorate. But afterwards she grabbed her coat and went outside. Much to her surprise, Ron followed.

They began to walk together, leaving footprints in the freshly fallen snow. It was still flurrying and Hermione put her gloved hand out to catch some snow. "Remember when we first met each other?" she said almost absently, surprised at the words coming out of her mouth. She examined each snowflake on her glove. "And I told you you had a smudge on your nose?"

Ron still wouldn't look at her, but he said, "Yeah. I was so overwhelmed at that point. I spent the rest of the day worrying that I had a huge smudge on my nose and that everyone was staring at me. Of course, it was only later that I realized everyone was staring at me because I was sitting next to Harry Potter."

She smiled and continued. "And remember our huge fights? We'd always argue and then be fine within a few hours. Poor Harry. I'm sure he hardly knew if we were fighting or not."

"Well, remember that one day, when he asked us in the library? We were studying for our N.E.W.T.S and he said, 'Are you two fighting? Good. Because I was just wondering if you'd do a favor for me.' " Ron's voice was becoming warmer and warmer by the minute.

Hermione laughed. "And then fourth year, when I told you that next time we went to a ball to ask me before it's too late?"

At this, Ron snorted. "Well, you were going out with Krum, the arrogant, slimy--"

"--And I was furious that you didn't ask me. You were so focused on Fleur. I had really given up hope on you."

"What do you mean?" Ron protested, finally looking at her. His eyes were lit as if he was teasing her.

"I thought that meant you didn't like me like... I had hoped you did."

"Oh, you did, did you?" he teased.

"Oh, you know." She was getting flustered, and although it bothered her, it seemed to amuse Ron greatly. Suddenly, she remembered what it was like living with him-- how he infuriated her and made her so happy, all at the same time.

"I think that was the biggest row we'd ever had. And that's saying something."

She laughed again and realized how good it felt. "I have something to ask you." Just as quickly, she sobered. "I don't know how to go about this, of course, and you're going to have to bear with me, but I really need to know..."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm glad that you always come right out with things, because if you didn't, I think I'd go insane."

She bit her lip. How was she going to do this? "I saw... evidence. That you sold us out."

Ron's slightly cheerful expression fell to a hurt and confused one. "What?"

"Lucius Malfoy told me you sold us out."

He snorted bitterly. "And you trust _him_? Come on, Hermione. I thought we just fought a war against the likes of him."

"It's not only that. He showed me through dark magic. Lupin came back from his mission one day and told us that chances are you did and that it wasn't even under the Imperius. Then he told us we had to move. I didn't know what to believe. I mean, I really wanted to believe that you hadn't, but all evidence says that you did."

"What did Malfoy show you?"

Hermione's heart sank miserably. Ron's voice was now hard and cold. "I'm so sorry, Ron..."

"No, I want to know."

"He showed you sitting there, telling him that we were at Grimmauld's Place, and that it would be easy to kill Harry."

It took a second and much to Hermione's surprise, Ron didn't look upset at all.

"_My friends.." Just as suddenly, a plan had come to his mind. A very brave and reckless plan, however. If Malfoy went back on his promise to release him as soon as he confessed where they were hiding, then he was as good as dead. If, however, Malfoy was as adamant about keeping promises as he claimed to be, Ron might have found a way to save everyone's life. _

"_They've found an underground entrance underneath the Ministry." He hoped it didn't seem as if he was making this up as he went along. Ron even pretended he was distraught about giving up his friends, just to add to the dramatic effect. "They've been using it for years now, ever since Mr. and Mrs. Potter were killed. It should be easy to find Harry, as long as you catch them unaware." _

_Lucius had stood back at that, apparently lost in thought. "The Weasley boy has been very helpful," he said, and the others murmured in assent. _

Ron bolted to the present. He had never been able to remember what had happened next. "I just don't understand how Lucius convinced you and Lupin that I had told them you were at Grimmauld Place. Unless I was given some Veritaserum or was under the Imperius Curse without my knowledge, I did not mention Grimmauld Place."

Hermione stopped walking for a minute. "Would you swear on it?"

"Yes. As far as I know, I'm completely blameless."

She nodded. Dark magic was an interesting thing, she thought. "I wish I could work out what happened, though. I have no idea."

"I think that might be the first time I've ever heard you say those words." Ron looked as if he was trying really hard to remember the exact moment she had said them.

She swatted at him playfully and he threw a snowball at her. Hermione threw one back as soon as she managed to gather enough snow in her hands. Soon, their mini snowball fight soon turned into a much larger one, complete with the rest of the Weasley kids.


	8. Christmas With the Weasleys

CHAPTER NINE

CHRISTMAS WITH THE WEASLEYS

Ron sat in the living room, across from Hermione and Ginny, who were chatting amiably. Hermione was reading _Apparation: A Look At Theories Across The Ages_ and Ginny was looking at _St Mungo's: Muggle Psychology vs. Wizarding Psychology_. He didn't know what had gotten into his sister, but she seemed fascinated with the the whole idea of brain probing.

He couldn't keep his mind of Hermione. He didn't know how to react around her. Somehow it was different from their seventh year. She'd changed, both physically and emotionally. Her hair was still as frizzy and out-of-control as ever, but her teeth had all aligned themselves into some semblance of order and Ron suspected that once she'd left her parents' house she'd broken their No-Magic-On-The-Teeth rule. While she was still the same Hermione, (yesterday, she'd gotten off on a tirade: "And then there's the Muggle ideals about war. They're so much more interested in going to war than us wizards are, you know") there was still something different about her. He couldn't quite pinpoint it, but there was _something_.

Ron wanted desperately to be part of their conversation. "Hey, Gin, can I see that book?"

Ginny reluctantly passed it over. "The introduction says there's a nasty curse for anyone who destroys it. Don't forget that one time when I let you borrow one of my library books and you dropped it in the bathtub. I had a nasty welt on my face for weeks."

Ron noticed Hermione's face turned an interesting shade of pink, but he decided it best not to bring it up. "I won't," he said impatiently. "Don't you trust me? I'm your own bro--"

"No."

Hermione looked as if she was trying very hard not to laugh.

Suddenly, Fred Apparted with Angelina on his arm. "My brother's holding a book? I wasn't under the impression you could read."

"Very funny," Ron muttered, feeling his face grow hot. He read the deadly dull Introduction: _I've been studying the art of brain probing, both on wizards (where you can see where they keep their brain) and even on objects where it is not so obvious. The Muggles have embraced the idea of brain probing for a long time, which they've called Psychology. This is a new form of magic, which many have taken to calling after the Muggle name. Some prefer the name 'brain probing' to--_

Ron's head shot up. "This sounds boring," he said, passing the book back over to his sister.

Not unexpectedly. Hermione had a retort. "Oh, brain probing is fascinating. Some say it's a very imprecise branch of magic. How can you determine how a wizard is really feeling, anyway? But it's fascinating all the same. The first ever wizard to really argue its validity was George Naumann, who said--"

"Yeah, save the lecture," Ron muttered. He did enjoy listening to her voice, but not when she went off like this.

Angelina whispered something in Fred's ear and he grinned. "As soon as my relations show up."

Ron entertained himself by talking to Fred and Angelina. At least they weren't on a tirade on the greatness of brain probing. One by one, Ron's brothers showed up: Charlie, then Bill and a woman Ron didn't know, then George and Alicia. Mr. Weasley came, huffing and puffing and stamping his boots. "I hate Christmas Eve," he complained as he used his wand to pry off his boots. "The snow makes Apparating quite an adventure. And," he said, looking at his children, "it makes your mother frantic. Where is she?"

As if on cue, Mrs. Weasley emerged from the kitchen and said, "Waiting to hear what you think of this chocolate batter I'm about to put in the oven."

"Hey, how come I don't get to taste test?" Charlie said. "I'm your eldest son and, by default, I'm the most charming."

George snorted as everyone else laughed, including Mrs. Weasley.

"Yes, but I like your father better," she joked.

Mr. Weasley wandered back into the kitchen, looking delighted. Ron happened to notice that everyone was chattering happily while Angelina was fidgeting nervously. She did laugh at all of their jokes, though, even the ones that were deemed 'unfunny' by everyone else. A few minutes later, after his mother and father had re-emerged from the kitchen, Fred and Angelina stood up.

"I have an announcement to make," Angelina said, positively trembling, but looking excited all the same. Her cheeks were flushed and her mouth turned into a large grin. "I'm--we're-- expecting."

At this, the sound was positively uproarious. George went outside to throw some Fred And George's Fireworks, and Fred accepted everyone's congratulations with a goofy grin on his face.

"I can't believe you're about to be a father," Charlie told Fred. "You know you hold the child like this"--he put his arms in a position as if holding an infant-- "Not like this"--and then he held his arms as if he was swinging a child upside down in mid-air.

"I know," Fred said with a grin.

"He'll have me to answer to if he doesn't," Angelina said, looking much more relaxed now that she'd gotten her announcement over with and had been repeatedly hugged by her mother and father-in-law.

"And you don't want to mess with that," Fred joked as he ducked a playful swat from his wife.

After the initial excitement wound down, the attention turned to a timid looking young woman. "And who is this, Bill?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I'm Katherine Odwald," said the young woman.

"Very nice to meet you, dear. By all means, make yourself at home."

"Classmate of Bill's, then?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Er--" said Bill. "Well, actually... erm. How to put this?" Ron had never seen Bill look this uncomfortable before, unless you counted the time he told Mrs. Weasley he'd accidentally thrown one of her plants instead of a garden gnome over the fence. "She didn't go to school at Hogwarts."

"Where did you go to school then?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"St. Louis's Enrichment School," Katherine said.

A heavy pause followed this. So Bill had brought home a Muggle? Ron was overwhelmed. Mr. Weasley jumped on the opportunity to ask her about electrical objects at once, but Bill said, "Dad? Do you want to scare her away? Honestly..."

Hermione, Ginny, and Katherine were up late. Ginny had asked to sleep in George's old bed ("so I can have a roommate... it's ever so lonely in my room by myself...") and the women had made a cot appear so that Katherine had a spare bed, too. Ginny had added her own touches; it wasn't a normal cot-- it was a very comfortable waterbed.

The row that was ensuing downstairs was getting out of hand. It was between Mrs. Weasley and Bill, and it seemed as if Mrs. Weasley was getting the last say.

"We met at her bank!" yelled Bill. "A slight conflict with her bank and ours. It was a half blood family. The mother goes to Gringotts, and the father goes to hers, and there was a mix-up. Her bank had no idea what Galleons were, and I went to fix it."

"Still, do you have any idea what you're doing? She's a Muggle!" she yelled back.

"You and Dad have always told us to be open minded, right? How come I'm not allowed to love someone who's not a wizard?"

"Because you know how people have been since the War. Everyone suspects each other nowdays. Wizards are highly suspicious of Muggles now. Which isn't good, but that's how it is. And you and Katherine will be in danger."

"You're no better than the Malfoys, you know that? And I'm going to marry her! I'm asking her tomorrow."

Katherine grimaced and said, "Guess that ruins the surprise, then."

"I'm sorry," said Ginny. And she truly looked it. "I can soundproof the walls. Honestly, you can hear anything from any room in this house."

"No, that's all right," Katherine said, as Bill said, "I'm doing it to be, oh, what's it called? _Open minded_. Isn't that what you teach?"

This seemed to be too much for Katherine. "Oh, so he wants to marry me to prove something. Please do whatever it is you wanted to do earlier--"

So Ginny soundproofed the walls. "Really, I don't know what's gotten into her. Mum's so open about these things. Although she'd probably flip her nut if one of us wanted to marry someone who wasn't a Gryffindor..." She flipped open her book again and opened the book to a random page.

"So, I understand you work at a bank?" Hermione said, trying to sound cheerful.

"That's right." Katherine looked glum. "Accounting. My dad seemed to think it was a more worthwhile profession. I would have loved to be an artist, but that probably wouldn't have worked out."

"Maybe you could show us some of your art work."

"All right. But only if you promise to show me how you do a few spells. Bill tells me I can't do them myself, of course, but I'd love to watch some magic."

Hermione nodded, but suddenly Ginny's face was pale as she flung her Psychology book next to her.

Hermione looked at her friend, wondering what had gotten into her. "Are you all right?"

Ginny shook her head no and pointed in the direction of her book. Hermione picked it up and skimmed the pages for what the offending passage might have been. Something made her heart skip a beat.

_Diaries are particularly powerful pieces of magic. Often, young witches and wizards pick up an old diary of a recently deceased (or living or ghost) family member in order to become a part of them. If the person is alive, even as a ghost, the connection with the diary goes further. The witch or wizard who picks up the diary will have a deep connection with the owner of the diary, and the person who intercedes any sort of correspondence between them. In most studies, the person who's been corresponding with the diary cannot live without the intercedent; evidence has proven that the correspondent will live a half life in terms of--_

Hermione cut off and flung the book in the same way Ginny had done. "Oh, Ginny," she said.

"I... well... erm." She seemd to be struggling with something to say. And then, with a smile Hermione could tell was forced, added, "Now I know why I'm miserable all the time. I'm apparently doomed to live a half life."

"I'm sure it's a load of rubbish," she said. "As I told Ron before, I read in some books that wizarding psychology can be very imprecise. There's still a lot of work to be done, since probing brains is a fairly new kind of magic in the wizarding--"

"I read somewhere that the man who wrote this book is almost always right," Ginny said, losing her cheerful facade and suddenly looking grim.

"Yes. _Almost_ always right." Hermione tried to sound firm, but her stomach seemed to be doing flip-flops.

"Could someone explain to me what's going on?" Katherine said, looking at them suspiciously.

Hermione was surprised at the casual way Ginny explained what had happened at the end of her first year. "And so, Harry Potter--"

"Who's he?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. Not used to having to explain that." She smiled and backtracked. Finally, she came out with-- "So, apparently since Harry interceded and saved my life, I had a huge bond with him. But, now he's dead, so I'm doomed to live a half life. Oh, yes. And let's not forget the part where I apparently have a deep connection with Lord Voldemort, who was one of the worst wizards in history."

A heavy silence followed this and Hermione tried to change the subject. "How about we all go to bed? We'll all feel better in the morning, I expect."

The other girls agreed it would be a good idea, but Hermione stayed awake, worried about her friend. And, from the fact that Ginny wasn't breathing very deeply, Hermione surmised that her friend wasn't sleeping at all, either.


	9. Ginny's Mistake

CHAPTER TEN

TROUBLE

Christmas was not a particularly cheerful event. Ginny walked around as a woman condemned. She quietly sat down by the Christmas tree and didn't complain, not even when she opened a pack of Canary Creams from her brothers. Katherine and Bill weren't talking. They'd had a major blow out earlier that day. Each one of them were so mad at the other, they hardly made contact. "Ginny, please tell your brother that the snowman building party we'd planned is off," Katherine would say, very pleasantly. Bill, who felt as if he had an advantage since he had been Ginny's favorite brother for a long time, would try to get Ginny on his side. However, Hermione doubted that after the night before Ginny would feel much like taking sides. Bill also was on cautious terms with his mother.

Needless to say, the engagement ring was never unwrapped.

Although she was surrounded by a few unhappy Weasleys and potential Weasley-to-bes, Hermione thought Christmas was... pleasant. She wished she was with her mother and father, but she appreciated the fact that Mrs. Weasley had worked so hard to make her comfortable. Ron had given her a book entitled _Why Can't Our Boys Win? The History of the Chudley Cannons_. She'd grinned. He had to know she wasn't as fanatical about Quidditch as he was. In return, she'd bought him a Chudley Cannons jersey. "I have no idea who wears number 7, but I hope you do."

"Norman Longfellow!" Ron said, looking as if she'd made his day. "Wow, thanks, Hermione!" She hoped with all of her heart that whoever Norman Longfellow was, he was an excellent Quidditch player. Ron pulled it down over his maroon sweater Mrs. Weasley had given him and showed it off to everyone.

One of the most thoughtful gifts she'd received was one of Mrs. Weasley's famous sweaters. Hermione had never gotten one while at Hogwarts; that had always been Harry's tradition. But this year, she unwrapped a big yellow shirt with an H on it. "I wasn't sure what your favorite color was, dear, but I saw this yarn and thought of you immediately." Mrs. Weasley was looking at her fondly as Hermione put on the sweater.

"Do you think Hermione will forget her name too, if you don't put an initial on it?" George asked.

Everyone laughed, including Mrs. Weasley. In a few minutes' time, all wizard type people were sporting one of her famous sweaters.

Later that night, Hermione sat by herself, clutching a mug of tea and watching the snow fall outside. Her heart thumped as Ron came over and sat down next to her. "I see you haven't taken off your shirt yet. I took mine off _ages_ ago." She noted that he was still wearing her Chudley Cannons shirt, which was something that made her secretly very satisfied.

"Nice Christmas, huh?" Ron looked at his tea for a second and then took a sip. "Hope everything works out between Bill and Katherine. They were arguing for about fifteen minutes earlier today."

Hermione smiled. "Yeah. I really do hope everything's okay." Why were they talking like this? It used to be that they could sit for hours and chat freely about whatever came to their minds. But, she supposed, there was a long way to go before they would feel comfortable around each other again.

Ginny walked past them suddenly. Her face was pale as she bent down to work on picking up some wrapping paper.

"Need some help?" Hermione offered.

"Er-- no." She looked slightly surprised at the offer. "I'll just put this in the trash can, and then I'll be done."

When every last piece of wrapping paper was picked up, (and this was no easy task, since Fred and George had both taken to ripping every piece of wrapping paper into tiny pieces) Ginny moved out of the living room.

"What's gotten into her?" Ron asked, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, nothing," Hermione said. She suspected it had something to do with the events of last night, but earlier that morning she had been sworn to secrecy.

"You do know something!" he said, leaping to his feet. "You should tell me. I'm one of your best friends."

"I can't," she said, feeling sorry for her friend. She really _did_ want to tell Ron, but she had been sworn to secrecy by Ginny, and knew it would absolutely crush her if Hermione betrayed their trust.

"Well, fine then," Ron said, obviously feeling offended but not wanting to show it. He stood up, and in his fervor, tea splashed all over his shirt. "Damn!" he yelled. "We need a house-elf in here!"

Hermione glared at him, but she noticed he was ignoring her. He ran into the kitchen, and by the loud bangs she heard, Hermione assumed that Ron was in a positively sour mood. Upset, she picked up the book Ron had given her.

It turned out to not be so bad, after all.

It was after the holidays and things had gotten back to normal when it happened.

"Hey, Gin?" George said timidly. Ginny jumped. "Erm, I have a favor to ask you."

He was holding out a box of glass fake wands. "I need to go down and trade these in Knockturn Alley."

"_What?"_ Ginny said, breathing in sharply. "What are you doing business with them for?"

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." George grinned and looked as if he was changing character. "Actually, it's because the shopkeeper of Banges wants to study our wands and make something similar. I wouldn't have done it, but he _is _offering quite a bit of money, and I made him promise he wouldn't develop anything sinister."

Ginny took the box and put on her coat. "How did you get him to promise that?"

"Fred and I volunteered some nice hexes. Let's just say that if we find out there's anything horrible coming from our wand idea, his abnormally crooked nose will, er, fall off."

"George!" Ginny laughed.

She Apparated, and ended up outside of a very dirty looking store. _George Weasley, what have you gotten me into_? she thought. Her eyes wandered upward, to a sign with two crossed broomsticks as decoration. One of the broomsticks were broken; the other was slightly crooked.

Her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch as she saw who was inside. The man had sleek blonde hair and looked like someone who was hanging on to the fact that he had once been rich. He was standing in front of the storekeeper, speaking in quiet tones. It couldn't be who she thought it was-- could it? No one would do business with a former Death Eater.

And then she heard it. "My family is enjoying some of the profits of your Manor, Lucius."

Every nerve in her body felt like it was going to snap. She didn't know much about what had happened on the front lines of the war, but she knew one thing. _This man had killed his own son_. She thought about running away, but she was determined to sell the wands, if only for her brother.

The shopkeeper saw her and waved a hand. "Sorry, miss, there's been quite a backlog today. I won't be with you for a few minutes." George had been right-- the shopkeeper _did_ have an abnormally crooked nose. It made Snape's nose look like Gilderoy Lockhart's in comparison. The situation would have almost been humorous if Lucius Malfoy wasn't staring right at her, lip curled.

She found a rusty old table and sat down, fingering the box of wands nervously. Maybe she could sit here without notice. Maybe, just _maybe_, there wouldn't be a confrontation. The men went back to talking, and Ginny pretended to study the different odds and ends of the shop. It _was _interesting, but she couldn't seem to concentrate on anything.

Suddenly, the conversation stopped and Lucius Malfoy went out of his way to stand by her table. "Ginny Weasley," he said, sounding for a minute as if he was trying to be polite and failing miserably.

"How do you do," she said, coolly. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was certain he could hear it.

"I hear your _boyfriend_ died." All façades of politeness were now gone as he spit out the name. "Harry Potter. What a shame. I would know what that's like. I believe my own dear Narcissa was killed quite suddenly. One of those fools from the Ministry, no doubt."

This was the most he'd ever said to her. Much to her relief, he began to walk away. Lucius got to the door and then turned around. "Hurts, doesn't it? Too bad your side relied so heavily on the Harry Potter boy and he was killed so tragically. Died upright like his father, though."

And then something happened that hadn't happened to her since before she went to Hogwarts. The lights in the shop dimmed and then brightened. When she was a little girl and angry at one of her brothers, she had been able to create a few tiny rattles that had felt like small earthquakes. However, she was no longer a little girl, and wasn't angry at one of her brothers. She felt the earth shake violently, and the shopkeeper swore at her as merchandise fell from the shelves. Ginny didn't care.

"Oh, I see I've hit a sensitive spot. Will it help you to know he died quickly? Probably didn't even know what--"

Ginny saw red. She thought that it had just been a figure of speech up until now, but she finally knew what that meant. Heat surged through her, giving her energy. She chucked the box of glass wands at Lucius, forgetting for a minute that he was a very powerful dark wizard and she was a nineteen year old witch who was just a few years out of school. The wands shattered into a million pieces and ducks, horses, and a confused looking chicken came out of the broken shards.

There was a horrible silence before Lucius Disapparated. She waited for a few minutes and then Disapparated herself, leaving a very disgruntled shopkeeper in her wake.

It took her a few minutes to catch her breath. She had Apparated right into the break room where George was waiting impaitently. "Did you give it to him? Did he give you the money?"

She shook her head, knowing that was all she could do.

"What? How come? What's the matter?"

It took her a second to catch her breath, but managed to tell the whole story to George. His eyes widened, and for a moment he didn't seem to be in the mood to joke at all. "That big slimy _git_."

Pigwidgeon flew into the room, wreaking havoc and dropping a few boxes from the shelves. They ignored him as he dropped a letter for Ginny in her lap. He looked seriously affronted as George and Ginny continued to ignore him. Pigwidgeon flew off, hoping for a treat from someone else in the shop.

She opened it, fingers shaking.

_Dear Ginny, _

_Stay where you are. Do not move. The Ministry of Magic has heard about this, and we will seek further action. You may be in danger. Please STAY WHERE YOU ARE. _

_Love, _

_Dad_

Ron was the next person to enter the breakroom. "What's going on? Pig's going mad out there." He showed them the nicks on his finger. "Ginny, are you okay?"

She shook her head and hid the note from her brother. He couldn't know about this. After what had happened to him during the war, he would only do something rash and get them further into trouble.

A few more owls flew into the shop, and Ron went out to change the sign from 'OPEN' to 'CLOSED'.

The notes all said similar things. It made her feel better that apparently the Ministry was on her side, and they realized her 'earthquake' had occurred because she had been extremely angry. However, there was always one little line that made her heart pound. _You May Be In Danger_.

A loud popping noise made both of them jump, and at the next moment, Arthur Weasley stood in front of them. Her mother appeared a moment later, looking frantic. "The clock-- said 'mortal peril'--" was the only thing Ginny could make out.

Arthur sat down next to Ginny and said, "I'm getting letters all over the place. Both sides. The shopkeeper, who, unfortunately, was the only witness, says you threw it at Lucius and there was no real reason for it. However, most former members of the Order and people who, er, _weren't there,_ seem to think there had to be a reason."

"Is Lucius going to seek legal action?"

"That's a distinct possibility," her father said, looking extremely worried and angry. "The bad thing is, he's unfit to seek legal action in a normal court. You know, the Ministry declared him unfit to be with regular wizards after the war. He'll probably sue at a court that plays as dirty as him."

Her mother gasped. "You mean the one in Knockturn Alley?"

"Most likely."

She sat down too, and Ginny could feel herself start to cry, although she had been fighting against that for quite some time.

"I wish Azkaban hadn't been destroyed after the war," George said. He frowned and looked worried too, which slightly surprised Ginny. "That's where people like Lucius Malfoy belong."

There was silence for a long time, and Mrs. Weasley hugged her daughter. It calmed Ginny for awhile. There had been no official declaration from anyone, so maybe they _were _safe.

"I'll go to McGonagall," said George suddenly. "I know if there's a way to get out of it, she'll have it figured out..."

No sooner had George spoken than a severe looking owl flew overhead and dropped a letter in front of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley. Her mother opened it for her, and recoiled immediately. "Oh, Arthur--"

"What?" said Mr. Weasley, looking at his wife and daughter. They had seperated.

Ginny picked up the letter and her stomach lurched. She read it out loud:

_Dear Ms. Ginevra Weasley, _

_I have thought for a long time now about the prospect of seeing you in court for the events that transpired this afternoon. However, you and I both know that it would not come out fairly for you. I have decided that there is a way we can repair this without the help of a higher court. If you come to my Manor tomorrow morning at 8 am, I shall ask of you a few favors, at which time we can consider settling this. _

_If not, I may seek action in court. _

_Good day, _

_Lucius Malfoy_

"About going to McGonagall..." George said angrily.

"What should I do, Dad?" Ginny asked.

"It's ultimately your decision, honey," he said, looking defeated. "I'll go smooth this over with the Ministry and then call some of the members of the Order. We'll have a meeting tonight."

Ginny nodded numbly. After an hour or so of Mrs. Weasley trying to comfort her, she had made up her mind.

She'd have to take a few days off work first.


	10. The Memorial

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MCGONAGALL'S MEMORIAL

"Why did Ginny take off so early?"

"I'm not saying a word."

"How come she didn't eat any of her breakfast?"

"Probably to get away from you, you nosey git."

"Please? If you tell me I'll give you ten Galleons."

"I'm not saying a word, little bro."

"How about twenty? Oh, wait. Nevermind. I haven't got twenty Galleons. Probably because you don't pay me enough."

"Not my fault you spent it all on your day off," George said. They were in the breakroom at work. Fred was manning the front counter while Ron and George were taking a break.

"If I found twenty Galleons would you tell me?"

"No," said George vehemently.

"How come Ginny isn't coming into work this week?"

"I'm not saying a _word_. Ginny told me not to tell you, and I can't betray her trust."

"She's been keeping a lot from me lately," Ron said. He'd felt slightly hurt ever since Christmas Day.

"Hey, aren't you and Hermione going to Hogwarts to see McGonagall's Memorial today?"

"You can't change the subject on me."

"Sure I can." George looked out the window. He'd been doing that in a worried manner every few minutes-- it was starting to make Ron nervous.

"Why are you looking out the window?"

"To look at the progress of the snow."

"There's quite a bit on the ground..."

"Aargh!" George looked as if he was close to pulling out his hair by the roots. "Here. How about you have the day off. Go. Away."

"But then no one'd be--"

"I don't care. Fred and I have been taking care of the shop since long before you and Ginny got here. And it was a lot more peaceful before then, too, come to think of it. I'll see you back here tomorrow." He continued to stare out the window, apparently waiting for something.

Ron was surprised. His brother was being abrupt and didn't look cheerful at all. Having no other choice, he Disapparated to go find Hermione.

When Hermione entered Hogwarts Castle, she noticed several changes. The most obvious was that the staircases looked new. The old stairs had been knocked out during the war. They apparently had had to rebuild the entire first floor. The corridor that lead into the Great Wall (where the first years waited to be sorted) looked brand new, too.

The other change was that first years whispered as they walked by Ron, but she noticed they weren't whispering about Harry, or about Ron's less than average Quidditch skills. (His skills had gotten better over time.) They were talking about him in the reverent manner many had talked about Harry,

"Aack!" Hermione exclaimed as she jumped back. Cold water splashed over her ankles, and Ron glared up towards the ceiling.

"Weasley-kins back for another yearsies of Hogwarts?" Peeves said, looking absolutely delighted. He was carrying a water balloon in each of his transparent hands.

"Couldn't, I don't know, someone have at least cursed him in the head during the War?" Ron muttered.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "He's not alive, anyway. I don't think anyone could curse him."

"Well, there's got to be a way to--" he was interrupted by a scream close by. When Hermione and Ron looked to see what had caused the commotion, they saw that Peeves had thrown both water balloons at a third year.

"Let's go," Ron said, peeling off down the corridor and finding his way to the where the Slytherin dungeon used to be.

What they hadn't planned on was having to state the password. What would a Slytherin portrait be interested in? "Slimy gopher guts. Weasel brains. Green and silver..." Ron trailed off. "What do you think the answer is?"

"_Alohomora!_" Hermione tried, holding out her wand. Nothing happened. "Why didn't McGonagall tell you and Ginny the password at the pub? It would have made things so much easier!"

Just in time, McGonagall hurried down the hall. "There seems to have been quite a disturbance upstairs," she said, looking disapproving. "Our students have been mentioning a particular student in our midst. How come you're not inside?" She paused and lowered her voice. "I grant Mr. Weasley allowed you to stay with them?" McGonagall was addressing Hermione.

"Yes, he checked with the Ministry and everything, and they said they supposed it was fine. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley charmed the house so I would be safe in their care," Hermione explained.

"Very good," their former Transfiguration teacher said. "Again, why aren't you inside?"

"I don't know the password," Ron said.

"There's not _supposed _to be a password," she said, her lips in a thin line. "I set it so the door will automatically detect a former student. Vera, have you been forcing former Hogwarts students to give you a password?"

The tall blonde witch in the portrait nodded. "It's _funny_!" she said, evidently trying to hold back laughter.

By McGonagall's thin line she made with her lips, Hermione could tell she did not share Vera's sense of humor. "Open this door immediately. I shall leave you two alone."

The door swung open, and Hermione shut the door behind her.

Hermione was flabbergasted by what she saw inside. It was one thing to stare at Muggle photographs of people you once knew, but looking at wizarding photographs was a different matter entirely. People she went to school with were blinking at them. Hagrid, who was grinning at them from his corner, hopped into the portrait next to him and pointed at them as he said something to the portrait of Neville.

It was very bizarre, to see friends you once knew act like they were alive, but weren't able to talk to you.

"Where's Harry?" Ron said in a strange, strangled voice.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted, walking around the tiny room and looking at the artifacts. Pieces of wand and other objects people had left behind were displayed in tiny cases, much like a Muggle museum.

As they got to the other side of the room, they discovered another room. They opened the door, and what they saw inside made Hermione gasp. It was an entire room devoted to Harry, and to top it off, a giant portrait of him nearly filled an entire wall. The portrait didn't look as if it wanted to be seen. Harry was ducking under the frame, clearly hoping not to be seen, but his wild hair betrayed him. Every so often, he jumped back up, adjusted his glasses, or impatiently ran his fingers through his hair.

Much to her surprise, this seemed to be too much for Ron. He slid down against the wall that had portraits of Harry's mother, father and godfather, and it appeared as if three years of misery were finally catching up to him. He started out by covering up his eyes and refusing to let Hermione touch him, but then, as he finally began to cry, he allowed her to rub his back for a long time.

Hermione knew it was best to let him cry. She had treasured Harry's friendship since her first year at school, but she knew Ron and Harry shared something she never did. They had been boys together, had compared Quidditch teams, doodled inside each other's textbooks when she pretended not to notice, and she knew Harry loved to hear Ron's comments on just about everything. It had absolutely killed him during their fight fourth year, to not be able to hear Ron's jokes.

Ron took a couple of deep breaths, wiped his eyes furiously with his sleeve, and stood up. "I'm leaving." He stood up so quickly Lily Potter stared back at him, looking torn between disapproval and amusement.

As they walked out together, Ron slammed the door behind him, and Hermione thought it best to not mention what had just happened.

Ginny allowed the large double doors to slam shut behind her. She had been right-- Malfoy clearly was a man who was hanging on to the fact that he had once been very rich. A large cursive 'M' marked everything in the front room. The floor was dusty and she saw no signs of house elves.

She surveyed the room and her eyes stopped on something very interesting. It was a box-- no bigger than one of the Muggle music boxes her father insisted on bringing home-- but it shimmered and stood out against the dull tones of the room.

It was almost frightening, the beauty of this box. It was so out of place in the mansion that she was drawn to it. Ginny took a few nervous steps to the bookshelf and touched the smooth surface of the box.

Somehow, it didn't seem enough to touch it. She opened it, and the strangest sound filled the room. It was a deep, frightened human voice, but it sounded determined and nasty all the same:

"_Just because I'm not killing people like you doesn't mean I'm on your side, Potter. Don't you get it? I think the Dark Lord is _wrong. _But the next time you and your _friends_ come anywhere near me--" _

Ginny shut the box quickly, heart pounding. Was that Draco? It sounded an awful lot like him. And was he talking to... _Harry_?

The box shimmered unhelpfully and she backed away from it. What _was_ this box, and why was it here, in the Mansion? Deciding it better not to think too much about it, she stood in the middle of the floor, on top of a giant 'M', and waited to talk to Lucius, face to face.

She didn't have long to wait.

A few minutes later, Lucius stood in front of her. If it had been anyone else, she would have poked fun at the fact that he was very, very late. But this was Lucius Malfoy, and the man still frightened her.

"Hello, Ginevra," he said coldly.

Her heart hammered as she responded, "Hello, Mr. Malfoy" in the coollest voice she could muster under the circumstances.

"I have decided it would only be fair if you worked a few days in my Mansion, completely free of charge. As you may have noticed, people in my position are no longer allowed to have house elves, and with no wife and child, my house is not as, er, clean, as I would like. Therefore, you may spend the next two weeks cleaning my Mansion. This is fair retribution for what you did yesterday."

Ginny felt anger grow inside of her at being compared to a house elf, but she said nothing. The last time she had allowed anger to show she had been very, very sorry later.

"All right," she said, defiantly. Malfoy's eyes widened in a slightly mocking manner, and she wondered briefly if he had expected her to put up a bigger fuss, or to refuse him outright.

"Well, then, there are a few things for you to clean in this room, and then the kitchens need to be cleaned as well. I expect lunch to be served at noon sharp. Good day."

With a swish of his robes, Lucius turned and exited the room. Ginny waved her wand and got to work, thinking of as many curse words to describe him as she possibly could along the way.


	11. A Mission For The Ministry

CHAPTER TWELVE

A MISSION FOR THE MINISTRY

The household was in a state of uproar. The ghoul, deciding that clearly the screaming and yelling wasn't _enough_ noise, was throwing heavy boxes from the attic. Mrs. Weasley was pacing in and out of the kitchen ("Oh, Ron dear, will you get your things off your father's chair?"). Ron was trying to startle Ginny into telling him what had happened. Each time he said something, Ginny turned pale. Ron had not seen her in such a state since his second year when the Chamber had been opened. Hermione was scolding him, and during all of this, Mr. Weasley appeared and sank into his armchair.

"I'm not going to say a _word_," Ginny said, sitting down in the couch next to their father.

"C'mon, Gin," said Ron, pleading.

"She doesn't have to if she doesn't want to, Ron," Hermione said in a haughty voice.

"I know, but, honestly," said Ron, shaking his head. "I'm her brother."

Mrs. Weasley entered the room as Ginny sighed and went upstairs. Hermione bit her lip, looking as if she wasn't sure whether to follow her friend or to stay where she was.

"Everything in order?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

Mr. Weasley sighed. "The Ministry's in an uproar. There have been signs of Death Eaters everywhere." He cast a worried look at Ron, as if afraid his son would start yelling again. "Some of them are holding on to the belief that Voldemort is still biding his time, while others are convinced that this is the time to begin their own take-over."

"Really?" said Hermione, looking interested.

"Yes. Most of them were killed during The War, but the ones who remain aren't prepared to admit defeat."

"Like who?" Ron asked immediately.

"Well, most of them died, but Malfoy has always been a threat. Also, McNair and Nott have both sent death threats to the Ministry."

"Now, are you mentioning Lucius because you don't like him," Mrs. Weasley asked, waving a spatula in his direction, "or is he a real threat?"

"No one can be sure," Mr. Weasley responded. "He's been on the top of our suspect's list ever since The War, just because he's a lot more, er, _vocal_ about Muggle bashing and Voldemort's causes."

"Shall I call the Order together?" Mrs. Weasley asked quickly.

Ron found himself grinning in Hermione's direction. During their fifth year, they would have done anything to be included in one of their meetings. But late sixth year, after Ron and Harry had seen Voldemort face to face, they'd decided to let Harry, Ron, and Hermione become members, even before their coming of age. They'd quickly learned it wasn't all it was cracked up to be-- most of it was strategic reasoning, and the kids still weren't allowed to do anything outright for the cause. They hadn't had a meeting since The War, but Ron was willing to bet that they still wouldn't let him or Hermione do anything adventurous.

"Yes, I think that'd be best."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and set down her spatula. She then picked up several envelopes from the desk drawer, turned to the chimney, said in a firm voice, "Fawkes", and waited until several phoenix feathers fell from the chimney.

It was a revolutionary way of communicating, thought up by Dumbledore. He would tie some of Fawkes's feathers to an envelope and send them to other members of the Order. One feather meant that everyone was okay, but they needed a meeting. Two meant that someone was injured and three meant that someone had died.

Mrs. Weasley tied one feather to each envelope and sent Pig out. Although the owl was much bigger than it had been during Ron's fourth year, it still believed it was small. Pig flew around in a hazardous manner and then finally flew out the window.

Within the hour, people began to show up, both by Apparating and using Floo Powder. Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, Tonks, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Mad-Eye Mooney, the Weasley brothers and Angelina and Alicia, and a woman Ron didn't know waved their wands and chairs appeared behind them.

The volume in the household increased immediately. Ron sat next to Hermione, but before they knew it, Luna Lovegood, looking as if she'd ended up in the house accidentally, walked up to them and said, "Your house is _really_ loud, you know."

"Er, yes. I do," Ron said, looking at Hermione. He noticed she looked as if she was trying very hard to keep a straight face.

"Order," Arthur said, standing. It still surprised Ron that his father could assert so much authority. Of course, his father had always been authoritative to his family, but never in front of a large crowd like this.

"What's this about, Arthur?" Tonks asked as everyone else fell silent.

Mr. Weasley explained to everyone what had happened as Mrs. Weasley brought platters of food into the front room.

"We need a plan," he admitted. "_Accio Parchment et Quill._" At these words, a piece of parchment and a quill flew out of the desk drawer in the corner and landed in his lap. "Ah, yes. We need some people on the front lines. Tonks, Cassiopeia, and Mad-Eye. I'm going to ask you to be there for us. You're some of the best Aurors I've ever seen."

The witch Ron didn't know tossed her red hair behind her and stuck her chin in the air. "Call me Cassie. Like my friend Tonks here, I'm cursed with an awful first name."

Mr. Weasley smiled and wrote down a few names. "Oh, will you also help Ron, Hermione, Luna, and Cho? I have the perfect task for them."

Ron perked up. He had been so used to meetings in which they were never mentioned.

"I know they considered you for the Charms professor when Flitwick retired from Hogwarts. Could you help them with charming a few objects?"

Cassie nodded and swished her hair behind her again. Ron could hear Hermione tut impatiently from beside him. He couldn't tell whether she was upset at the fact that Mr. Weasley thought she needed help with charming objects or whether Cassie was getting on her nerves.

The meeting went on much the same way, and several of the members began to leave. In the end, Luna Lovegood stood in front of Ron and Hermione and said, "Are you two together yet?"

Ron could feel his face turn red and Hermione tutted again. "No," she said harshly.

"That Cassie really is something, isn't she?" Ron said, to cover the awkward silence. A sharp pain in his side indicated that Hermione had just jabbed him in the ribs with a sharp object.

"Oh, yes," said Luna. "She raises Half-Backed Snuffleguts in her backyard."

Ron couldn't help but let out a snicker.

Ron had never been able to understand the usefulness of Charms. More than once throughout his years at Hogwarts, he'd wondered what the purpose of forcing a teapot to tapdance really was.

This was no exception. His father had set them the task of turning a bunch of old boots into Portkeys. He'd explained that they were in case the Order needed to go somewhere quickly, but Ron suspected it was probably just to give them something to do. He knew that usually you had to be authorized to turn objects into Portkeys, which was why, according to his father, they needed supervision.

And never had a stranger group of people been assembled in the Weasley's living room. Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger, Cassie, and himself had been working for a little over an hour and they had made very little progress. It was very hard work.

"You're not doing it properly," Cassie informed a very angry looking Hermione. It struck Ron that he may have met someone even bossier than Hermione, if that was at all possible. "It's more of a jabbing motion, and _then_ you swish."

"What," said Hermione coolly, "is wrong with this? If you haven't noticed, I've already Transfigured three boots, and I haven't been _jabbing_ my wand."

"It'll make it go faster," said Cassie with a shrug. "See if I ever offer my help again."

Meanwhile, Cho looked as if she was concentrating very hard. Her brows furrowed and her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth. "I can't do this," she said, frustrated. Ron had very little sympathy for her; ever since she had run off with Michael Corner at the end of fifth year, he hadn't liked her very much.

Luna Lovegood appeared to be going through the task slowly and methodically. Even though she was loopy, Ron decided, she truly was a Ravenclaw. She had made the most progress out of any of them, although she did often stop to tell them some fact she had learned from reading The Quibbler.

Ron's own charming wasn't going well, either. He had never seen such a fiddly spell, except for in his N.E.W.T.s.

"What is the _use_," said Ron, "of Charming these boots? We don't need fifty Portkeys."

"Well, it's very important to have them just in case, isn't it?" Hermione said, casting sideways glances at Cassie and taking great pains to swish her wand as she said the words. "_Portus_. I mean, you just don't know if they'll be important later on." They watched the blue light cover the boot, letting them know that her spell had been successful. "_Wingardium Leviosa_." The boot fell neatly into the pile next to them.

"My dad says your dad has a whole pile of boots as Portkeys. It's an undercover plot," Luna said mildly. She watched as her boot fell neatly on top of Hermione's.

Cho giggled. "_Port-- _Damn. I can't get this right."

"It's because you're saying it too fast," Cassie informed her bossily.

Hermione loudly cleared her throat and said, "_I _think you're doing it right. It just takes a bit more practice. Your second swish should be slower."

"_So_," said Ron, detecting a row from a mile away, "what do you think is going on, exactly?"

"That's none of your concern," said Cassie as her boot jumped a bit on the table. Ron caught Hermione's eye, and he couldn't help but grin. His friend looked very satisfied.

"_I _think the Death Eaters are coming up with a weapon," said Luna.

"Come off it," said Cho impatiently. It looked as if she had finally gotten down the charm. "Of course they're not."

Ron didn't say anything as his third boot fell on top of the pile. He knew that after finding the prophecy had failed, Voldemort had wanted to use a real live human being as a weapon during their latter years at Hogwarts, as they had feared in their fifth year. What would stop a bunch of former Voldemort's followers from doing something similar now? He purposely tried to catch Hermione's eye and when she looked back, he could tell she was thinking the same thing.

"I am an Auror and if they were, we'd know about it," Cassie said.

"You don't think it's possible a Death Eater could do something and not let an Auror know about it?" Hermione said sarcastically.

Cassie opened her mouth stupidly but did not say a word, and the rest of the morning passed in silence.

Later that afternoon, when everyone had left, Hermione and Ron sat in the living room and discussed their conversation from that morning. "You don't suppose..." Hermione started, looking slightly frightened.

"I don't know," Ron shrugged. "But what worries me is that if they're planning on using another human being."

"Me too," Hermione said. After a long pause in which neither of them said anything, she stood up. "I need to get some sleep, though. I promised I'd help your mother with dinner and I just don't have any energy right now."

As he watched Hermione leave the room, he felt his stomach flip flop. It occurred to him that he was truly sorry to see her go.


End file.
